


Mind the Teeth

by immortalflowers



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: (Some other tags in the notes), (tm), Alternate Universe - College/University, Blow Jobs, First Time Blow Jobs, Humor, Jung Wooyoung-centric, M/M, Oral Fixation, Porn With Plot, San is just here for the ride, Smut, Talking/Thinking about teeth, Teeth, We don't stan Freud in this house but he kinda had a point with oral fixation ngl, Wooyoung is a mess, heh, mentions of biting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-19
Updated: 2020-04-19
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:08:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23705866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/immortalflowers/pseuds/immortalflowers
Summary: Yeosang’s off handed comment about him having an oral fixation made himthink, and he spiraled like Alice through the looking glass into Freudian articles.He’s too chicken shit to keep reading, but he’s seen words like ‘lollipop, ice cream, food’ and his mind connected it to ‘San’s lips, San’s mouth, San’s teeth’.Or: Wooyoung is in a predicament; it has nothing to do with Choi San, and everything to do with Choi San's mouth.
Relationships: Choi San/Jung Wooyoung
Comments: 14
Kudos: 162





	Mind the Teeth

**Author's Note:**

> Additional tags: drinking, swearing, fucked up humor - a character makes passively suicidal jokes a few times, the same character also jokes about being vored (oops), so if any of that is triggering to you please do not proceed! 
> 
> No one look at me, I'm embarrassed >:) 
> 
> Yes, okay, I don't know what this is? Me heavily projecting onto Wooyoung? Yes? This was supposed to be me freaking out over Yeosang's teeth because I feel like I write too much about Seonghwa's so to balance things out? But I changed it to Woosan in the end because reasons
> 
> Anygays, leave kudos and comments if you liked it!! Enjoy reading, don't go outside 
> 
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/yoongsicle)  
> [cc](https://curiouscat.qa/immortalflowers)

Wooyoung blames all his life problems on the apple tree in his parents’ backyard. It’s pretty tall, so he used to spend hours and hours under it (perfect shade) or between its branches (perfect hiding spot). He wasn’t a very friendly kid, and whenever he wasn’t with Yeosang, his mom would find him somewhere in the tree’s vicinity.

When he was eleven he decided that climbing the tallest branch was a great way to pass his time, as children who hate writing homework do. So he climbed it. He reached the tallest branch, and fell down the whole length of the fruitless apple tree, knocking several of his teeth out.

Now, luckily, the teeth that fell out were still his baby teeth (he didn’t like calling them that at the time, so he showed Yeosang a handful of his _deciduous_ teeth – a word he learned visiting the dentist that same day). Granted, he was still walking around like Mother Gothel before singing and combing Rapunzel’s hair, but at least they’d grow back. (They did.)

So. All Wooyoung’s problems can be circled back to that dumb fucking tree.

Current problem: Choi San. Prettiest boy Wooyoung’s ever seen, literally perfect. Wooyoung lays awake writing haikus and Petrarchan sonnets about him – 14 lines, each describing San quite literally from head to toe. He’s sure he has one solely about his mouth. And teeth. Who could forget San’s teeth?

San's teeth are great. It's a universal fact, everyone knows it.

They're a bit uneven, but the perfect size, and blindingly white. The fact that they’re a bit jagged gives them a special charm.

And the canines. Oh, the canines. The way they finish in sharp little ends… Wooyoung is not okay.

“He really just has those,” Wooyoung bares his teeth, “in his mouth.” He’s not even thinking that maybe he has leftover food on his teeth, not that Yeosang would care. He’s mostly not even paying attention to him.

“What are you talking about?” Yeosang asks, looking up from his book.

They’re both sitting at the end of the table in the uni cafeteria; Yeosang is cramming for his exam in the afternoon, which Wooyoung knows he only has a slim chance of passing. They stayed up all night screaming at each other while simultaneously watching the last episode of Pretty Little Liars. (It was too long to finish so shitty, they were rightfully mad.)

“There’s no chance in hell you’re gonna pass that,” he tells Yeosang just to ruffle his feathers. “Why are you even bothering?” He whines. “Pay attention to me! I have important things to say!”

“Oh, what a supportive friend you are, Wooyoung!” Yeosang throws a scathing look his way, slamming his book closed. “I literally am paying attention to you, you idiot. What do you want?” 

“San,” Wooyoung says intelligently, his eyes squinting at the distance as if he can’t believe what he’s seeing.

“We’ve been over this a million times already! If you want to be with someone, you have to actually speak to them.” Yeosang reaches over the table to grab his shoulders and shake him. “Stop being a creep and staring at him without saying anything all the time.”

“No, I mean, yes. But-” Wooyoung points with his finger in what he hopes is an inconspicuous manner in the direction of San and his clique (which mainly, and only, consists of Hongjoong and his tall pretty boyfriend Seonghwa (also great teeth), and sometimes the buff midget (really, Wooyoung? As if he’s any taller) that follows San around, and Wooyoung is pretty sure is his boyfriend… or something).

“I think San just looked this way,” he’s trying so hard to keep his excitement in check.

“Wooyoung, you’re acting like a freak.” Okay so it’s not working. “How is your face doing that thing,” Yeosang frowns at him, “It’s scary.” 

“He _is_ looking here,” Wooyoung almost vibrates in his seat. “Oh, wait,” he says, as if just realizing something. “Fuuuuck, Yeosang,” Wooyoung draws out the word. “San looked at me, and saw me staring. What the fuck do I do?” He’s about to bang his head on the table, put his hair in the worst chicken soup he’s ever had the displeasure of trying.

Yeosang turns around in his seat to look at whatever it is that’s making Wooyoung act so strange. Well, stranger than normal. 

“No, Yeosang,” Wooyoung hisses at him, pulling on his sleeve to make him turn back around, but the damage is already done. San is openly staring at them, with a little smirk on his face. And, oh, maybe Wooyoung should stop staring right back.

“What’s going on?” Yeosang asks, still clueless about everything that transpired between the two tables.

“Hnnng,” Wooyoung squeaks out. “He was looking right here! Why would you turn around?”

“What do you mean why?” Yeosang hits him over the head with his hardbound seven hundred page textbook. (When did he even pick that up?) “Because you were acting strange. Literally _what_ is wrong with you?” 

“Do you think I’m able to summon people when I talk about their teeth?” Wooyoung wonders aloud. 

“Do I think…” Yeosang squints at him, confused. “No, I don’t. Are you feeling okay Woo?” 

Wooyoung checks San’s clique’s table to see if he’s still looking at him. And… he’s not even there anymore. Only pretty boy Seonghwa showing off his pretty teeth at his pretty boyfriend. Okay, so, they also might only be speaking. Same difference.

“God. Hit me harder with that textbook Yeosang, I’m begging you.”

Did San leave with Jongho again? Wooyoung feels sorry for himself that he only spoke to his crush an amount he can count on the fingers of one hand (he doesn’t count purposefully forgetting to bring pens to class, so he can ask San to borrow one), _and_ that he knows that last time he saw him, he also left with Jongho. 

“Yes, okay. So you know San, right?” Wooyoung starts, chuckling awkwardly and bringing his head closer to Yeosang’s so no one can overhear what he’s about to say. Not that there’s anyone around them, but still.

Yeosang rolls his eyes at him, but mercifully lets him continue. “I’m pretty sure he was looking right at me like five minutes ago,” Wooyoung blurts out through his teeth.

“Wooyoung, I’m pretty sure the man has looked at you before, we’re all in the same friend group,” Yeosang tells him. 

And... that’s kind of a stretch. They’re not ‘all in the same friend group’. Wooyoung’s friend group consists of Yeosang (mainly - they’re ride or die), and sometimes Changbin, the rest of the guys - that’s Yeosang’s friend group. He may sound a tiny bit insensitive, but he doesn’t consider every person he’s ever spoken to his friend. (Except for maybe San. He could make an exception for San.)

San’s clique and Yeosang’s gaming friends sometimes all get together, and, sure, Wooyoung is always invited. And always shows up, because free alcohol, duh. But he doesn’t consider himself part of their friend group.

“I know you’ve had a thing for him for forever, maybe you should make a move this Thursday!” Yeosang says, suddenly excited. As much as he can get excited. He mostly just raises his voice and starts speaking faster, with his bitch face still in place.

“Uh, no,” Wooyoung refuses. “Absolutely not. I will not be doing that,” he says, moving his head away from Yeosang and their little conspiratory cocoon.

“C’mooon, man!” Yeosang is progressively raising his voice, and Wooyoung has a half mind not to take off his sock, and stuff it into his mouth. “It’ll be great. You’ll both be drunk as fuck, and you can tell him everything you think about his teeth.” Yeosang smiles at him. “So I don’t have to listen to your exploration of your oral fixation anymore,” he adds under his breath so Wooyoung can barely even hear it.

“Tell who about their teeth?” A voice behind Wooyoung asks. He feels his guts rip open and fall to the floor between his legs. It’s pretty gross, but he also feels kind of disgusting. 

Both he and Yeosang look up at the person behind him at the same time. And, yes. That _is_ San.

 _I’m going to throw myself into a well, and pull you down with me._ Wooyoung tries to convey with his eyes when he glances back at Yeosang.

San and his red highlights look so pretty, the jeans he has on hugging his thighs so tightly, Wooyoung can see the outline of muscle as San crouches to be closer to Yeosang on the other side of the table.

“Uhh, no one,” Wooyoung smiles at San. Or he tries to, anyway. His upper lip is pulled too tight over his teeth - that can’t be looking natural. “We weren't even talking about teeth. Ha-ha.”

“Okaay,” San says, unconvinced, and looks at Yeosang. “Anyway, are we sill on for your guys’ place on Thursday? I’m really sorry I sprang it up on you last minute, but my exam got moved to late fucking afternoon instead of 9 am. I literally won't have time to breathe let alone get everything ready. What with all the last minute cramming and shit,” he smiles apologetically.

Wooyoung can see the full set of his teeth up close, so he crosses his legs like a good Christian boy that he is (not).

“Yeah, man. Don’t worry,” Yeosang agrees easily. “Wooyoung and I can’t wait, can we? It’s been so long since we’ve all been together,” Yeosang turns a shit-eating grin at Wooyoung.

Wooyoung is climbing up that well, Samara style.

“I, uh,” he looks at San and Yeosang in turn. “Yeah!” He says, opening his book bag just to have something to do with his fingers. “Yeah, can’t wait!” He laughs awkwardly. He’s going to kill Yeosang.

San smiles another one of those smiles that tug up only one side of his face, and Wooyoung can say with one hundred percent certainty that it’s a billion times more devastating up close. One of the incisors is peeking up from under his upper lip, and Wooyoung has to look away, lest he keep staring at his mouth and his brain starts getting some dumb fucking ideas.

“Oh,” San exclaims. “Then I am too,” he smiles at them both - and if Wooyoung let himself, he’d say San’s eyes lingered on him a few moments longer than necessary (he doesn’t) - and leaves.

“Good luck with your exam!” Yeosang yells at his retreating back, half the hall turning around to look at them. Wooyoung hides his face in his hands in embarrassment, and looks through his fingers as San turns and gives Yeosang a two-fingered salute.

“Why do you enjoy embarrassing me?” he asks Yeosang. “I’m going to commit murder-suicide,” Wooyoung threatens, rising from his chair and returning their treys next to the kitchens.

Once he comes back, Yeosang is already waiting by the entrance/exit. 

“I will literally sue you for emotional distress,” he threatens. He’s doing that a lot these days. Yeosang just laughs at him.

It’s Wednesday, and Wooyoung is lying on the floor of his dorm room. Not much different from every other Wednesday (or day of the week), but Wooyoung is also kind of freaking out. 

Yeosang’s off handed comment about him having an oral fixation made him _think_ , and he spiraled like Alice through the looking glass into Freudian articles.

He’s too chicken shit to keep reading, but he’s seen words like ‘lollipop, ice cream, food’ and his mind connected it to ‘San’s lips, San’s mouth, San’s teeth’. 

And then his mind went even further, and he had to take a cold shower to chill out. He would not jerk off over a guy he’s barely even spoken to. (Yes, it’s different from porn, thank you very much.)

“Yeosang,” he looks desperately at his best friend, sitting on Wooyung’s bed and typing away on his laptop. “You fucking ruined my life.” 

Yeosang’s constant ignoring is starting to get on his nerves. “Look at me you bastard!” 

“Don’t lie,” Yeosang says pulling his legs up to escape Wooyoung’s kick. “My friendship is the best thing that’s ever happened to you.”

“No takesies-backsies,” Wooyoung pouts at him, sighing like a martyr.

“No takesies-backsies,” Yeosang agrees. “What’s bothering you this time?” He looks at him, lowering the laptop lid and eyeing Wooyoung over it.

“It’s nothing. It’s just,” Wooyoung trails off. “San!” He exclaims, burying his face in his hands, and moving his body so that his shins are on the bed, the soles of his feet pushing at Yeosang. 

“I want him to just bite the shit out of me,” Wooyoung wails.

Yeosang laughs. “You really took that comment about oral fixation to heart, huh?” He asks.

“Fuck you,” he pushes at Yeosang’s knees with his feet. “Ahhh, I want to die.”

He reaches for his phone to show Yeosang a picture of San that he posted on Instagram. He’s smiling open mouthed at the camera, his teeth in the forefront, at least in Wooyoung’s mind. Maybe somebody would notice his pretty eye smile first, and, yeah, it’s pretty. It’s real pretty, like insanely pretty, but... teeth! 

“Look at them,” Wooyoung cries, showing his phone at Yeosang’s face that he lowered to be able to look at whatever it is Wooyoung wanted to show him.

“It’s... San?” Yeosang questions. “When is it not San though,” he mutters under his breath and Wooyoung would be offended, but it’s the truth.

“What are you going to do tomorrow?” Yeosang asks him, sitting back up against the wall.

“What do you mean?” Wooyoung plays dumb. He was hoping Yeosang would forget, but no such luck. 

“About San,” he prompts.

“What I always do,” Wooyoung sighs. “Pine from afar, and answer awkwardly if the stars align and he starts a conversation with me.”

“Won’t you all be busy, anyway?” He looks up at Yeosang.

“As if you’ve never been to one of these ‘get togethers’,” Yeosang makes finger quotes before continuing, “By ten the apartment’s gonna be full of people we don’t know.”

“Make your move then,” Yeosang considers with a finger of his lip, and he’s reminded of his unadmitted obsession with his best friend’s teeth a few years back.

They dealt with it by making out and not speaking for the next two days, then later talking it out and deciding neither was really feeling a connection… or something. They stayed strictly friends after that.

Okay, so they made out a few more times after that when they were desperate for human touch, but it didn’t lead to anything. It never will. Platonic kisses are _cool_.

“Here’s the game plan,” Yeosang says, standing up and depositing his laptop on the bed where he was sitting. “You’re gonna wear something slutty,” Yeosang opens his closet to look through it to find something slutty, Wooyoung guesses.

“Noooo,” he moans from the floor. “How about something that says ‘Hi, I would like you to slightly vore me, but I’m also kind of awkward, so please come onto me first, but only if you want to, because consent’. I think that would be kind of nice.”

Yeosang turns around with the tightest pair of bleach washed jeans Wooyoung owns, and a see-through, very open at the front, black button down to stare critically down at Wooyoung. “So… slutty?”

“Hnnng,” he moans again. “Yeosang I’m gonna look too fancy if I wear that. I bet Mingi will come in old, dirty sweatpants.” 

“Are you trying to woo Mingi?” Yeosang asks him, and he shakes his head. “That’s what I thought.”

He nods like he’s just decided on something in his head. “I’ll dress nice too, so you don’t stand out, but you have to let me do your makeup.”

“Okay, deal!” Wooyoung says, pushing his hand out for Yeosang to help him up.

“Who are you dressing nice for, though?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Yeosang grins at him, settling back on Wooyoung’s bedspread and typing away.

Here’s how these parties go: the eight of them (San’s clique, Yeosang and Wooyoung, and Yeosang’s gamer bois Yunho and Mingi) get together to play _something_ (the extent of Wooyoung’s gaming knowledge goes as far as knowing that The Witcher was based on a game – which was in turn based on a book, but whatever), while Wooyoung uselessly stares at San, and cringes away from Seonghwa and Hongjoong making out (yes, they’re _that_ couple).

They also drink, and they drink _a lot_.

That’s why Yeosang and Wooyoung are currently in the supermarket buying out half of the alcohol shelves.

“Grab that vodka for me,” Yeosang says, pointing at one of the bottles.

Wooyoung hates vodka, after one too many vomit inducing juice-vodkas and pounding headaches, he’s turned out to be a whiskey and coke kind of guy - Jameson, Jim Beam, classic Jack, or something even cheaper - he’s fine with any as long as it’s mixed.

“Uhhhh. I don’t know which one,” he says, looking at a dozen different vodka brand bottles all lined up next to each other. They look the same, they can’t be that different! They probably even all taste the same. Who’s gonna care if the only purpose of it is to get drunk.

Yeosang sighs from all the way at the other end of the isle, and trudges up to where he is standing. He grabs the bottle he needs and they’re done.

“You shower first, I’m gonna clean everything up, and then we’ll do your makeup,” Yeosang tells him, shooing him away.

Wooyoung showers, thinking of the game plan. Their game plan sucks – it’s not even a plan. How is he supposed to court (Jesus fuck) San looking like a slut? If San only looks at him once, he’s going to count that as a win.

“Why aren’t you dressed already?” Yeosang whines at him. “We have like twenty minutes to get you all pretty.”

“I did my hair at least,” Wooyoung pouts. He straightened it _and_ _tried_ to curl his bags while waiting for Yeosang to finish in the bathroom.

While Wooyoung was showering, Yeosang pushed all the furniture they own (which consists of a couch, table and two chairs) against the walls, and placed all the bottles of alcohol and juice they bought in the supermarket on the aforementioned IKEA table, that’s why Wooyoung is sitting on the back of the couch – the only place that he can use the flat iron because of the short fucking cord.

“It looks cute,” Yeosang compliments him.

“It better, it took me half an hour to fix it in place,” he says while Yeosang is bringing an eyeshadow brush closer to his upper lash line, Wooyoung goes cross eyed in the process.

“Close your fucking eyes,” Yeosang lightly hits him in the jaw with his knuckles so Wooyoung knows not to move around anymore.

The first touch of the brush makes him flinch back in surprise, and Yeosang lets out a long breath, holding his chin between his fingertips so he can’t move his head back voluntarily. “Can you make it look like Jimin’s in Blood, Sweat and Tears?”

“Yeah, sure fucking thing,” Yeosang says, pulling away for a second. “With my shitty ten dollar eyeshadow palette and ebay brushes. And don’t get me started on the fact that I’m an official MUA.”

“Okay, you don’t have to be so rude,” Wooyoung pouts. “At least add glitter?”

“Yes, your majesty. San won’t know what hit him when I’m done with you,” Yeosang says.

“Well, hopefully I will,” Wooyoung jokes. “Hit him that is,” he frowns. “In a non-violent way. Purely sexual.”

“Bitch, bet. You look fabulous,” Yeosang tells him, handing him a mirror.

Oh, his eyes look pretty. “My eyes look so fucking pretty.”

“They sure do,” Yeosang laughs, now adding a thin black line to his own eyelids.

He didn’t even do much on Wooyoung. Only smoked out his lower lashline with a bit of red, brown and black. And put glitter on his cheeks. The ultimate Gay™ makeup look. He wishes he had time to paint his nails.

“Thank you, bro,” he tells Yeosang and goes to his bedroom to change. He looks like a bad bitch with his hair and makeup done and the outfit on.

He hopes San will bite the shit out of him.

If their apartment had a balcony, Wooyoung is pretty sure he would be staring moodily at the stars to escape this hell party. Moon is smart. She would know what Wooyoung should do. Maybe unclasp the last few buttons on his shirt to make San notice him? (Probably not.)

As it is, Wooyoung is hiding in his own kitchen. San looked like he was having fun talking to Jongho and Yeosang. This is fine. Wooyoung is not jealous.

He’s on his third glass of whiskey-coke Yeosang mixed for him. It smells like stink bugs – that’s how you know it’s 80% alcohol. He’s been sipping at it for half an hour now, so he’s not that drunk – barely tipsy. He’s saving the last gulp for when he feels less chicken shit to walk to the makeshift drinks table.

He stares mournfully at the amber liquid when a shadow falls across him – a shadow very much in the shape of Choi San.

Oh, the shadow is lowering itself to crouch in front of Wooyoung.

“Hi,” he says dumbly. San has little stars next to his eyes, and what looks like a shitload of glitter in his red and black hair. Wooyoung swallows the last gulp of almost straight whiskey, and cringes.

San smiles toothily at him. Those are really inside his mouth, huh?

“You got a lot of glitter,” Wooyoung touches his own hair, playing it off by fixing his bangs.

“Ah, yes,” San smiles guiltily. “I tried to do Jongho’s makeup while he was asleep. Managed to get as far as applying the glitter glue all over his eyebrows, but he woke up and pushed my hand away. The glitter went flying all over, most of it ended up on me,” San laughs.

Wooyoung smiles at San, despite him talking about Jongho, Wooyoung is taken by his eye smile, so he’s not even mad. “Cute,” he admits, and looks away.

“Thanks!” San stands up, his hands on his knees like he’s in pain. “What are you doing on the floor of your kitchen?”

Wooyoung laughs looking up at San, “I’m hiding. I guess I’m not in the mood to interact with other human beings tonight.”

“You said you were excited when I saw you and Yeosang last time?” San questions, bending so Wooyoung can hear him better.

He can also see up San’s shirt now, and yes, he really is built like a Dorito from where Wooyoung is looking, his shoulders unnecessarily wide. Wooyoung has a life, okay? He can’t just give everything up to start a church worshiping Choi San.

“No, _Yeosang_ said that,” Wooyoung stands up, trying very hard to maintain eye contact, and not let his eyes wander lower.

“Do you wanna go get a drink?” San asks, looking at his empty cup.

“Yeah, okay,” Wooyoung says, and chokes when San grabs his hand.

Wooyoung is kind of dumb when it comes to real human relationships, but San might actually be into him. This is going much better than he expected it would, Yeosang would be proud.

“What do you like?” San turns around, still holding his hand.

“Whatever you’re having is fine,” Wooyoung smiles at him like a lovesick fool, stars in his eyes.

That was the wrong answer, even though Wooyoung didn’t even consider there could be one.

The second San’s hand reaches the bottle of vodka, he recoils internally. San fixes them… something. At this point, he doesn’t even want to know what it is, he’s just glad San is still speaking to him.

“You know,” San says giving him his cup back, now filled with the liquid that gives off a telltale orange and gasoline scent, “You’re a lot friendlier now than when we’ve talked before.”

“I am?” He’s confused. This feels like every other conversation and interaction they’ve ever led.

“Yeah,” San gestures with his empty hand at Wooyoung, his eye smile still in place. “It’s like you used to avoid me?”

“Oh,” Wooyoung is caught off guard, but he doesn’t want to lie. “I wasn’t really avoiding you I just didn’t want to interrupt you and Jongho.”

“Why not?” He prompts.

“Aren’t you two, like, a thing?”

San chokes on a mouthful of, arguably, the worst drink ever made. “No! What the hell, Wooyoung?!”

“I don’t know,” Wooyoung says, crossing his arms defensively, mindful of the cup that he hadn’t even taken a sip of. “You always spend time together, so I guess I just thought you were dating on something.”

“I wouldn’t flirt with you if I was dating someone,” San blurts out, and Wooyoung is glad to know that he’s not the only one between them who’s a bit of a mess.

“You were flirting with me?” Wooyoung asks, shocked. He takes a swig of San’s concoction for some more liquid courage and he doesn't even register the taste.

“A bit late of you to notice now, isn’t it?” San smiles and reaches to brush off a droplet of condensation that the glass touching Wooyoung left on his chin.

“Do you wanna go back to my room?” Wooyoung asks instead of answering, in all his horny twenty-one-year-old glory.

“I thought you’d never ask,” San says, pulling his fingers back. “Lead the way.”

Wooyoung tries to remember if he cleaned his room before leaving, as he tugs San behind him.

He’s not self conscious, he knows he looks hot, but he still gets a rush thinking that he’s taking San – The Choi San – into his room.

San giggles behind him, and he turns around to see why. “What? Why are you laughing?” Wooyoung asks him, San’s smile contagious.

“You’re just really cute,” San says, and he blushes so hard, he feels like his going into cardiac arrest.

“You too,” he gasps as San pushes him against the door. They haven’t even entered his room yet, and his legs are already buckling under the pressure of San’s mouth.

They’re kissing closed mouthed, but San’s hand is steadily inching further into his shirt through the slit on the front.

“I don’t think we should be doing this out here,” Wooyoung mumbles as San bites his lower lip with his teeth.

Wooyoung would very much like to push his tongue as far as it would go down San’s throat and leave a little guidepost that says WOOYOUNG WAS HERE. Wooyoung would like to do many things to San, but for now, he lets things be done to him.

“That’s awfully brave of you to say,” San chuckles, kissing across his cheek and scraping his teeth against Wooyoung’s jaw.

The door behind them falls open, and the only thing still holding Wooyoung up is San’s index finger curled at the front of his jeans. He has no time to think about it, though. Catching himself on the doorframe, Wooyoung sees a shameless Yeosang wiping the back of his hand across his mouth, smiling crookedly at them.

“Have fun,” he tells them, a knowing twinkle in his eye.

It takes Wooyoung’s brain a few seconds to catch up. “That’s my room,” he frowns at San, and San only looks on with mirth at the disaster waiting to happen.

“Hey!” He yells after Yeosang, fully ready to fucking fight his roommate. San laughs at them unabashedly, and snorts when he sees the person Yeosang was with, covering his mouth with a ring-addled hand.

Jongho looks like a deer caught in headlights – he’s tucking his shirt in when he notices the scene, but he walks out into the party without paying them any attention. (No one stops him.)

Wooyoung already sees his hands wrapped around Yeosang’s neck, but San holds him back. Like, Wooyoung physically can’t move because of San’s hand on his shoulder.

“But that’s my room,” he whines pathetically.

“You’ll have all the time in the world tomorrow to argue with him, don’t you think you should pay attention to me now?”

Wooyoung moves his gaze from Yeosang’s shit eating grin to San’s eyes. And, yes, Wooyoung thinks he should just stare at San for the rest of his life.

San notices his change in heart, and pushes him inside his room, shutting the door with his foot.

“I’ve seen you staring at me sometimes,” San says, oh-so-casual. “What do you look at?”

Wooyoung’s whole body short circuits and he blinks at him. “You – your mouth,” he stutters when San sits on the bed.

San smiles a soft soft smile, but there’s _something_ in his eyes. He takes Wooyoung’s hand and says, “You have pretty fingers.”

_Where is this going?_

“Th – thanks.”

“You can put them in my mouth,” San is still smiling, and Wooyoung is dying inside.

“Oh,” Wooyoung gasps softly, prodding his finger deeper into San’s mouth. He doesn’t look one bit uncomfortable with Wooyoung standing in front of him with (now) two fingers in his mouth; he seems at ease, enjoying himself.

Wooyoung’s eyes almost roll back into his head when San starts sucking, grazing his teeth ever so slightly over them. He tries not to think about when the last time he washed his hands was.

“Sa-San,” he stutters when San puts his hands on his hips, pulling him closer into his personal bubble.

He can feel his sharp little vampirish fangs brush against the tip of his middle and pointer fingers - San smiling around them all the while.

Wooyoung pulls his fingers out and replaces them with his own mouth, bending at the waist to reach San sitting on his comforter.

The kiss is open mouthed from the get-go, an exchange of spit and massaging of tongue. Wooyoung doesn’t know what to do with his hands, so he places them awkwardly on San’s biceps. The fingers that he just pulled out of his mouth leaving a sticky wet trail on his t-shirt.

San disconnects their lips, and Wooyoung thinks he’s done something wrong, but he only grabs Wooyoung’s hands from where he’s holding him and uses them to pull him into his lap.

He places his mouth on Wooyoung’s neck, and since there’s nothing stopping him, Wooyung blurts out, “I’ve been thinking about your teeth since I’ve noticed how pretty and sharp they are.” 

San laughs into his neck. “I guess that makes us a perfect pair.” He keeps kissing from under his jaw and bites down on his jugular vein. 

Wooyoung moans loudly, and immediately puts his hand over his mouth, embarrassed. God, he wants San to ruin him, to rip his throat out. “Mhhhn,” Wooyoung mutters, his mouth unable to form words apparently. “What do you mean?”

“I mean I love biting,” San laughs at Wooyoung’s half shocked, half apprehensive expression. He schools his face into a mask of indifference while he mulls the information over.

“That’s great,” Wooyoung smiles. “Perfect actually, because I don’t mind a little teeth.”

“You look like you were mauled by a pack of coyotes,” Yeosang says wearily over the bowl he's bringing up to his mouth.

“You don’t look any better yourself,” Wooyoung snaps.

“No, I mean,” Yeosang glances at his neck and chest.

“You should see the rest of my body,” he says cheekily after he remembers what happened last night. He’s blushing – sure, but he’s so self satisfied he can’t help but act cocky.

“I wasn’t the only one enjoying myself, was I?” He raises his eyebrows at Yeosang. “In my fucking room?”

“Well mine was occupied,” Yeosang says matter-of-factly.

“What? Who was in it?” Wooyoung is on his second glass of water. Fuck that cup of juice-vodka San made him drink.

“Seonghwa and Hongjoong.”

Wooyoung almost chokes but remembers to swallow before speaking. “Ew, you let them fuck in your room?”

“No, what the fuck!” Yeosang frowns. “Seonghwa was sad because his fucking Tamagotchi died or something. I don’t know! He was crying though, so I let them in.”

“And you were so horny that you had to suck Jongho’s dick in my room? Also why the hell did I think Jongho and San were together?”

“Because you’re a dumbass!” Yeosang tells him, walking around Wooyoung to put his empty bowl of cereal in the sink. “I’ve been telling you for weeks now that San likes you, and you wouldn’t listen.”

Wooyoung doesn’t deem this worth an answer, so he rolls his eyes at Yeosang, and refills the cup for the third time, adamant to make San drink it.

“Don’t be too loud please,” Yeosang says walking into his room. “I plan on sleeping for at least five more hours.”

“Can’t promise anything,” he winks walking backwards, hitting his head on his doorframe and moaning in pain.

He hears Yeosang laugh from behind his closed door.

“Are you okay?” San asks, his voice is husky from sleep, and… other activities.

“Yeah, fine. I got you some water. I’d give you painkillers but I don’t think we have any,” Wooyoung says.

Seeing San last night in his bed was a revelation. Seeing San waking up in his bed? He might as well drop dead from cuteness.

His hair is ruffled, and since they didn’t take their makeup off, one of the stars that was next to San’s eye is now on the tip of his nose, and Wooyoung laughs. He reaches to take it off with his thumb, but misses and places it on San’s lips instead.

“What? You haven’t had enough last night?” San asks.

“Yes and no. I’d like to return the favor if that’s okay.” Wooyoung blushes, looking at San’s mouth. The things he did with that mouth…

“Are you asking if you can suck my dick? Because the answer is yes.” San is shameless, and when Wooyoung looks into his eyes, he raises up to kiss him. Open mouthed, open eyed.

Wooyoung gasps, and moves downwards. San is still naked, his chest and thighs and arms on display. He wants to both suck and bite every part of San he can see, and to have the same done to him in return.

He can’t believe he’s doing this. He usually even has a hard time cleaning his tongue when brushing teeth, yet alone sucking dick.

The sole thought of San’s dick in his mouth both excites him like no other, and kind of disgusts him as well. He’s never actually sucked dick before though, and he says as much aloud.

“That’s okay,” San pets his face with the hand that’s not tangled in Wooyoung’s hair. “Just mind the teeth, and stop if it’s too much.”

“Right, okay,” Wooyung murmurs and gets back to business, lowering his head to mouth at San’s abdomen. Once he reaches his dick, he gives the head a few kittenish licks, and he must be doing at least something right, judging by San’s clenched teeth (teeth!), and his hand tightening in Wooyoung’s hair, the other one pulling at Wooyoung’s comforter.

He tries to get at least some of it in his mouth, but the texture and sheer taste of skin make him want to gag.

No, wait. They’re actually making him gag.

He pulls off quickly, and sees San looking at him with concern, his eyes still narrowed to slits. He starts saying something, but before he can speak, Wooyoung takes a few deep breaths and tries again. He really wants to like this the way San does, but no such luck. 

The taste still makes him gag, and now mixed with the slight smell of sweat, Wooyoung has to pull off. He looks at San’s blissed out face, contorted in pleasure, and he really wishes he was as good at dick sucking as San is. Wooyoung sure is a lucky son of a bitch.

He guesses his oral fixation manifests only in screaming about San’s teeth. Go figure.


End file.
